Call It Destiny

scurrying staff like a large ocean liner coming into port. „After those croissants this morning you couldn’t have kept me away. I would never have believed I could find anything like them outside San Francisco. And the fettuccine with anchovy sauce the other evening was absolutely superb. I would have returned to Tucson years ago if I’d known you had been added to the staff.“
    The middle-aged chef beamed under the lavish praise and was about to respond when he appeared to notice that Heather was not alone. „Ah, Mr. Cavender. I’m pleased that you decided to come along on the tour. We don’t see very much of you in the kitchens.“ There was both respect and reproach in the words.
    Heather heard the warmth fade from the chef’s voice as he turned to greet Jake. It wasn’t that he became less gracious, but he was definitely more wary and more distant.
    This wasn’t the first time during the past two weeks Heather had seen this reaction from members of the staff when they confronted Jake Cavender. They seemed a little uncertain of him, as if they were conscious of walking on crystal eggs around him. There was definitely respect in their manner, but none of the easy relations most of the staff enjoyed with the more jovial Paul Strand. That cordiality and warmth was rapidly being extended to his daughter, however. It had added greatly to Heather’s enjoyable sense of homecoming.
    „None of the guests have been complaining,“ Jake said quietly, „so I saw no reason to interfere.“
    Julian shrugged with Gallic resignation although Heather knew the man had no French ancestry. She’d asked him specifically the night he’d served her a magnificent dish of mussels in saffron sauce. He’d been thrilled that she had concluded he must have learned his cooking skills at the knee of a French mother.
    „Well, we hope you, Miss Strand, will not choose to show up in the kitchens only when something goes wrong,“ Julian declared regally and gallantly offered his arm to escort her into the pastry section. „Carlos, give Miss Strand a sample of that shortbread you made this morning.“
    The young man wielding a rolling pin paused with a grin and handed Heather a sample of the still-warm shortbread.
    „Believe me, if I can be guaranteed a bite or two of this sort of thing every time I visit, you will have to shoo me away from your doors.“ Aware of Jake’s dark silent presence trailing along behind her, Heather took half the rich buttery cookie and turned on impulse to feed the other half to him.
    He looked somewhat surprised at the offering but hesitated only a fraction of a second before accepting it. He didn’t politely extend his hand for it, however. Heather was a little disconcerted to find herself popping the morsel between his strong white teeth. The unexpected intimacy of the small action brought a slight flush to Heather’s cheeks.
    When she hurriedly swung around to continue the tour she found a number of grins being quickly concealed. Even Julian appeared both astonished and amused. The staff, Heather presumed, was not accustomed to seeing the remote financial wizard of Hacienda Strand being fed shortbread in such a casual manner. Heather had to stifle a grin of her own as Jake dutifully followed her and her escort into the section where fresh vegetables were being washed.
    Heather listened attentively and sampled cheerfully until, with a faintly apologetic air, Julian led her toward a grill on which several hamburgers were about to be cooked.
    „For the children, you understand. Many of the guests here at the Hacienda bring their kids and all the young ones want are hamburgers. Even at ten-thirty in the morning! This order has just come in from the pool area.“
    „Of course,“ Heather said laughing. „Children work up a healthy appetite swimming.“ She stepped toward the grill with easy familiarity. „Personally I’ll always have a warm spot in my heart for hamburgers. I owe them a great deal, you see. It’s been a few years since I cooked them in quantity, though. I wonder if I still have the knack. Let me see that spatula.“
    „Miss Strand, you’ll get all greasy,“ Julian protested as she reached for the stack of hamburger patties separated by thin sheets of paper.
    „I cannot believe you would buy fatty meat, Julian. Now, we can’t forget the buns. Jake, wash your hands over there and do the buns.“
    There was a startled silence behind Heather and it wasn’t just Jake who was